


Survivor Guilt

by Keolah



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, One Shot, Survivor Guilt, ending spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Keolah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa Cousland was going to be a queen. But things do not quite work out as planned. How does one move on after losing everything?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor Guilt

Melissa Cousland laughed brightly as she handed out coins to the elven beggars. The smiles on their faces brought light to her heart. What was a pittance to her was a fortune to these poor elves. 

"Everyone is eating tonight!" exclaimed one of them. 

"When I am queen, everyone will eat every night," she told them. 

She hummed a little tune as she practically skipped away. Everything was falling into place. For once, everything was going right. Who knew that killing Howe and avenging her family would have lifted such a weight from her shoulders? Now, she could let go of her grief and move on with her life. Her father would be proud of her, she was sure. 

* * *

"A Grey Warden must die in order to slay the archdemon," Riordan was telling her and Alistair, but she wasn't listening. That was for Riordan to take care of, after all. She and Alistair were going to be king and queen of Ferelden. 

When Melissa returned to her room, she froze in the doorway when she saw Morrigan standing by the fireplace. "Morrigan? I thought I told you to go away. What are you doing here?" 

And Morrigan told her about her latest scheme. A way to remove the necessity for anyone to die to destroy the archdemon. All it would require was convincing Alistair to sleep with Morrigan and produce some abomination demon-child. 

"Are you _insane_?" Melissa exclaimed. 

"Think about it!" Morrigan said. "You care for Alistair, do you not? You do not wish either of you to have to die, do you?" 

"Neither of us is going to die! Riordan is going to deal with it. There's nothing to worry about." 

"And what if he fails?" Morrigan asked. "What then?" 

"He's not going to fail. He knows what he's doing, I'm sure." 

"Well enough that he got captured by Howe?" 

Melissa snorted softly. "This conversation is over. Get out of my room, and I never want to see you again. I don't trust your motivations or your plan, and I definitely don't trust what might spawn from it." 

"Then you are a fool," Morrigan said, and she turned and left on the spot. 

Melissa stomped over to the bed and punched the pillow with all her might. The nerve of the witch! She certainly wasn't going to tell her betrothed about this strange encounter. There was no need to give him nightmares about having Morrigan bear his demon-spawn offspring. 

* * *

When Melissa saw Riordan's broken body laying on the ground near Fort Drakon, her blood ran cold. She went up to him, checked him for signs of life, tried to get him to drink a healing potion, and ordered Wynne to try to heal him, but it was no use. Too late. He was dead, and had been for a while before they'd gotten here. 

That meant it was down to her and Alistair. She steeled her heart and moved on into the fort with him on her heels. Melissa had really wanted to be queen, but... Alistair would be a good king. A kind king. It was up to her now to give him the chance. 

* * *

The archdemon lay mortally wounded before her. This was it. It had been a good life. But Alistair would make a good king, and Fergus would make a good teyrn. Her father would be proud of her. 

A firm hand on her shoulder, and Alistair's voice speaking terrible words... "I can't let you do that." 

"Alistair..." was all she could say. 

"I'll take the final blow," Alistair said. 

"No," Melissa uttered. "You can't do that. You're going to be king. You'll be a good king." 

Alistair only smiled at her. "And what kind of a king would I be if I weren't willing to give myself for my kingdom, and for the sake of the one I love?" 

"No!" Melissa said, pushing him aside and charging toward the semi-conscious dragon. "I will-- I will do it--" 

Alistair caught her around the waist, and said, "I won't let you." 

Curse him for being physically stronger than her. She was built for finesse fighting, but Alistair knew her every move. He disarmed her, left her laying on the ground, and quickly stepped up toward the dragon. 

Melissa clambered to her feet once she was released, and cast about for a weapon. But it was no use. Alistair was standing above the archdemon's head in moments, sword poised to strike. 

"Goodbye, my love," Alistair said, and he thrust his sword home. 

"Alistair!" Melissa shrieked. 

A column of light pierced the cloudy sky, and she felt like it was ice driving straight through her heart. Melissa fell to her knees, unable to look away, unable to bring herself to move. 

* * *

Her companions wound up having to drag her away in a daze. She stared and ate reflexively, food tasting like ashes in her mouth. People were celebrating a great victory. The end of the Blight. But for Melissa, her world had collapsed around her. 

Anora gave a speech that she didn't listen to. Anora would be queen. The little bitch would be queen of Ferelden. Melissa could hardly even bring herself to be bitter about that. 

And they wanted to call her the Hero of Ferelden. 

"I'm no hero," she said. " _Alistair_ was the real hero. Don't any of you ever forget that." 

But they didn't seem to listen. For all their talk, for all their celebration, they hardly spared a word for the one who gave his life for them all. For the one who gave his life for _her_ , however much she might wish that he hadn't. 

It was easy to make a sacrifice, she realized. It was harder to be a survivor. To be one left behind. 

"They call you a hero," Sten was saying to her. "I think I understand the concept. It is like that which my own people call 'Qunoran Vehl'. But a Qunoran Vehl is only declared after death." 

"Alistair is the hero here," she muttered. 

"I see," Sten says. "Perhaps it is not so different after all." 

She shook her head. "Maybe. I don't know. I just wish they would pay more attention to the one who made this celebration possible." 

"You downplay your own achievements," Leliana said. "You were the one who led us all to victory. Even Alistair was simply following you." 

Melissa squeezed her eyes shut and replied, "I'm sorry, Leliana. But I don't want to hear this right now." 

She headed over to talk to Oghren instead. The dwarf would certainly have something sufficiently alcoholic around. She had never been much of a drinker, but right now, she wanted to be unconscious. 

* * *

"You know, if you had your heart set on being queen," Zevran said, "I could always make some arrangements for you." 

"No assassinations!" Melissa snapped, rubbing her head. "It is far too early in the morning to be listening to this. And I have a hangover." 

She could at least be glad that no one was likely to overhear them, as she'd retreated to the relative privacy of her chambers in Arl Eamon's Denerim estate. And it was unlikely anyone here would care anyway even if they did. 

"Don't be so callous, Zevran," Leliana admonished him. "Is it not obvious? It wasn't that she had her heart set on being queen. It's that she had her heart set on Alistair." 

Melissa sighed and nodded to Leliana. At least _one_ person here understood. "If it meant being with Alistair, I would have gladly let Anora take the throne and lived in a hovel in the middle of the wilderness." 

"Ah, well, I'm afraid for that, all I can offer is my gentle consolations," Zevran said. "And that I'm here for you if you ever need comforting." 

Melissa snorted softly. "I'm going to politely decline, and if you don't know how to brew up a hangover remedy, I'm going to throw you out of my room. What are you even doing in here, anyway?" 

"I'll be taking my leave, then, my lady," Zevran said. He gave a suave bow and exitted the room. 

Once he was gone, Leliana turned to Melissa and said, "I can understand your grief. But would Alistair really want you to be wallowing in it like this?" 

"Don't hang Alistair over my head in some attempt to make me feel guilty. I'm doing a good enough job of that all on my own," Melissa said bitterly. "You can leave, too." 

* * *

Anora had put her in charge of the arling of Amaranthine. Melissa wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a gift of thanks, an apology for Alistair and her family, or a bribe to keep her out of trouble, a ploy to promote Anora's status by associating herself with the Hero of Ferelden. She guessed that whatever was going on in Anora's head was hardly purely kindness and altruism, however. 

Still, it was something to do, and there was some pleasure in the bitter irony of sitting in the seat of the man who had her family murdered. The rest of her sometime companions wandered off to whatever destinations their feet might take them, but Oghren found his way to Vigil's Keep ahead of her. She supposed that he had nothing better to do. What life did he really have, either? 

"How do you do it, Oghren?" Melissa asked. "How do you keep going after you've lost everything?" 

It had been different when her family had been murdered. That hurt, certainly, but she hadn't felt nearly so aimless. She had revenge against Howe, duty to end the Blight, and then love for Alistair to keep her going. Now, she no longer had any of that. All she had now was an arling that didn't really need her, that anyone could have run. 

Oghren had lost everything too, she thought. Two years of waiting and wondering, followed by having to watch the deaths of those who survived. Including his wife, Branka, driven mad by her quest for the Anvil of the Void, and felled by Melissa's own blades. 

For a minute, Melissa thought that Oghren wasn't even going to answer, or maybe he just didn't hear her, but finally he replied, "Booze and rage. Booze and rage." 

* * *

Melissa toyed with the idea of finding another man to settle down with, and be happy as she was sure Alistair would have wanted. It wasn't what she wanted, though. She'd wanted _Alistair_. But she tried, nonetheless. She felt that she owed it to him, somehow. 

Anders was an attractive enough young mage, and quite useful to have around for his healing magic. But she overheard him mention something about someone named Karl in a strange context, and thought to herself that he must be interested in other men, not women. She dismissed the option. 

Nathaniel? She could hardly look at him without thinking of the way his father murdered her family. She knew that he was not responsible for it, logically, reasonably. Logically and reasonably, she'd given him a chance to restore his family's honor. But deep in her heart, she could never quite get past it. 

And then there was Oghren. She was oddly fond of the drunken, angry dwarf. It amused her to think of romance with him and his horrible euphemisms. She flirted with him, casually, playfully, drunkenly, trying to work up the courage to actually say anything seriously. But no, her hopes, such as they were, were dashed there as well when Felsi showed up, and it turned out that Oghren had a woman and child he hadn't mentioned. 

And so it was that, when business in Amaranthine was finished, Melissa left the arling in whatever capable hands it might fall into. She didn't even care who at this point. 

* * *

While half-drunk and rapidly on the way to becoming completely drunk, in the Spoiled Princess Inn on the shore of Lake Calenhad, Melissa overheard a rumor about a strange woman whose description sounded a lot like Morrigan. 

She sobered up and went to hunt down the witch. She wasn't sure why or what she hoped to accomplish, but it was a purpose, a goal in a life sorely lacking. 

And she found her, in a wasteland, standing before a strange mirror, an Eluvian, looking back at her with those haunting golden eyes almost as if she'd been expected. 

"Morrigan," Melissa rasped. 

"Do you still blame me for Alistair's death?" Morrigan asked. 

"Yes. No. I don't know." 

"Did you come here to try to kill me?" Morrigan seemed to be smirking. At least, she thought she was smirking. Maybe it was just her imagination. 

"That would not bring him back," she said. "But it might please him to know you were dead." 

"So will that be it?" Morrigan said. "Battle, then?" 

Melissa stared at her, sword and dagger practically itching at her belt. But she could not bring herself to attack. Shaking her head, she looked away. 

"You have no idea what you are doing, do you," Morrigan said. 

"No, I don't," Melissa admitted. "I'd like to blame you for Alistair's death. I'd like to kill you in revenge. But I cannot. I can't delude myself enough to think that it was really your fault. I didn't trust you. I don't know what would have happened if I'd taken you up on your offer. Maybe Alistair would have been spared at the price of the world. It doesn't really matter now." 

"No, it does not. What has been done is done. And yet we are here, now." 

"What are you planning to do with this mirror?" Melissa asked. "Some other dark, arcane ritual of questionable nature?" 

"The mirror is a doorway," the witch said. "A portal to another place, beyond this world, beyond the Fade. I will pass through the threshold, and never set foot upon this world again. You need not concern yourself of me any longer, once I am gone." 

"Another world?" Melissa said, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yes," Morrigan said. 

"You... You're going to just step through this thing, and... leave it all behind?" Melissa said. 

"I am. What business is that of yours? Is that such a bad thing?" 

"No, no, not at all." Her hands were shaking, and for the first time in a long time -- years, it had been years since Alistair died, and since she'd parted ways with Oghren and the rest of them -- a spark of hope lit in her eyes. Her heart fluttered, and it was as though a weight had lifted from her. 

She'd never considered it possible. She'd always thought that no matter where she went, she would not have the luxury of not having her past follow her around like chains firmly affixed to her ankles, being dragged everywhere she went. Everyone knew she was the Hero of Ferelden. She drank to forget, but she would not be forgotten, and when she was sober, everything she looked at reminded her of what she'd lost, of what could have been and was never to be. 

"Take me with you." 

Morrigan looked at her strangely. "You refused my offer before. Because you did not trust me? Why should you trust me now?" 

"Because I have nothing left to lose," Melissa replied. 

Morrigan snorted softly. "You have far more than you give yourself credit for. You are hailed as a hero. You have wealth, status, prestige. What more do you want?" 

"And not a whit of it really matters." 

"So you wish to run away from it all, then?" Morrigan said. 

"I'm not _running away_ ," Melissa snapped. 

"Of course you are. You have been running away for years now. Do not think I know not what you have been doing since last we met. You have been drinking more than that fragrant dwarf. Even when you took the position in Amaranthine, you were merely running away, in hopes that killing some more darkspawn would take your mind off of Alistair. I am honestly surprised that you have not yet made your way to the Deep Roads to end it all." 

"I'm not going to the Deep Roads, tradition be damned," Melissa muttered. "I have no desire to become a broodmother." 

"You are evading the point," Morrigan pressed. "What do you think that coming with me will truly accomplish?" 

"Everywhere I go, I'm either admired for things I didn't do, or pitied for things that could not be. Even the Qunari know who I am! If I'm running away, then that's what I'm trying to get away from. I want to be nobody from nowhere. I want to start over. I don't want to be called a hero, and I never want to see another darkspawn again." 

Morrigan cocked her head at her thoughtfully. "And what makes you think that I owe you anything? The one thing I wished, you denied me." 

"I did kill your mother for you, for what it's worth," Melissa said. 

"I do not believe that she is truly dead, but you did, I suppose." Morrigan sighed. "Fine, then. You may come with me. It is not my concern if you wish to run away from everything. But once we are on the other side, we will part ways. Do not seek me out again. But you still owe me. If there is anything I require of you, I will seek _you_ out." 

"That is acceptable." 

She could not even imagine what might await her on the other side. A whole new world to discover, fresh and ripe with possibility? The thought very nearly brought tears to her eyes. 

There was no one here she wished to say goodbye to. She stepped through the portal with Morrigan, without hesitation, without looking back. All that she was leaving behind were regrets and broken dreams. 


End file.
